


This Storm, It's Coming

by ryukoishida



Series: Sing When You're In Love [4]
Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 15:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10311179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: “Gieve, what the hell are you doing here, really?” Despite his grumbling tone, his action says otherwise as his fingers sift carefully through his lover’s hair, still slightly moist from the storm. [Idol/Musician AU]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 036. A thunderstorm is rolling through town and you’re scared of lightning/thunder so I’ll protect you.
> 
> I apparently didn't post this yet so here it is.

The doorbell to his penthouse buzzes for the third time, each sounding more insistent than the last.

The rain, blown into diagonal silver lines in the violet-black of the sky, splatters against the windows of his bedroom like an endless shower of bullets as the wind howls ferociously like a famished, furious beast that threatens to drown the entire city in its rage.

It takes Isfan another two minutes to untangle himself from the thick duvet. The cord of his headphones that snakes around his neck, in addition to two very heavy masses of fur clinging to him like magnets, with the weight of his two wolfdog pups totaling a good sixty pounds, make it almost impossible for the brunet to roll out of his bed to answer the door.  

“Kayvan, Baharam, I’ve got to go get the door,” he murmurs while scratching behind their ears absent-mindedly, his voice a little hoarse from not speaking for too long, as his feet drag across the hardwood floor and past scattered open notebooks, two guitars propped on stands by one wall, notation sheets, and half-finished tea abandoned in a mug on his bedside table.

The two Kugsha puppies, almost similar in their thick, toasted-marshmallow-brown coats and intelligent, ice-blue eyes, trot closely after their owner, their fur tickling Isfan’s bare calves. The only physical trait that distinguishes the siblings is the light brown spot around one of Kayvan’s eyes, though their personalities are quite different, especially when it comes to socializing with other humans.

There is, however, one more thing that Isfan and his two Kugsha puppies share.

As if on cue, the low growl of thunder rumbles in the distance; the sound is still far away enough to only make the three of them jump instead of crawling back into the safe nest of Isfan’s blankets in the dark.  

When he finally gets to the door and yanks it open, with Kayvan and Baharam shivering slightly and crowded close by Isfan’s feet, he widens his eyes in surprise at the sight of his lover standing there, drenched from head to toe – his hair still dripping with rain water and darkening the carpet beneath his feet – and a bright grin on his face.

“Gieve? What––” Isfan is about to chastise him, or ask him why in the world he’s here, outside his apartment unit without giving him a call first, but then he takes in Gieve’s slightly trembling frame and the way he’s biting his lower lip to keep himself from outright voicing his discomfort in his soaked clothes, and Isfan changes his mind, only replying with a soft, exasperatedly fond sigh.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” A small pout forms on his lips, and the brunet moves aside to let him step into the warmth of his dwelling.

“Here,” Isfan throws a towel at him, which Gieve catches lithely with one hand. “And change out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.”

Gieve responds with a cheerful affirmative, which doesn’t really explain why, five minutes later, Isfan finds himself back in the warm cocoon of his bed and blankets, two fluffy dogs piled comfortably on top of his legs, with the addition of an almost naked Gieve (donned only in a fresh pair of boxer-briefs, as he’s only too aware) snuggled up close to him, his head tucked under Isfan’s chin and an arm thrown loosely around his waist.

“Gieve, what the hell are you doing here, really?” Despite his grumbling tone, his action says otherwise as his fingers sift carefully through his lover’s hair, still slightly moist from the storm.

Gieve’s skin is cool to the touch where Isfan traces patterns along his back, and he smells faintly of fresh rain against pavement when he tightens his arm around Isfan.

The roar of the sky, now much closer as if there’s a bloodthirsty beast hovering just above the apartment complex, shakes Isfan’s core, and he squeezes his eyes close. He concentrates on his own breathing, lightly hitching because his heart is beating so fast, on the warmth of Kayvan and Baharam’s bodies pressed against his legs, on Gieve’s comforting and solid presence and the man’s rhythmic exhales against his neck.

“Well, I know how you and the pups get whenever there’s a thunderstorm rolling through town,” there may have been a hint of teasing laughter in Gieve’s low voice, but Isfan can’t even find it in himself to care right now, “so I’m here to protect you.”

Isfan can hear rather than see Gieve’s grin, and if he weren’t shivering underneath this massive blanket fort and enjoying the shared heat and much-appreciated company, the brunet would have kissed that self-assured smirk right off of his lover’s mouth.

As it is, he’ll just wait here, in this little silent haven of warmth and familiarity and love, until the storm passes.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a sap. What can I say? And the only reason why Isfan owns such a big place is because he knows his two pups need ample of open space to run around; otherwise, he probably would have just gotten a one-room apartment unit.


End file.
